Bitter
by Ambrosia Ice
Summary: Bitterness consumes you until there's nothing left, until you can't breath. Until you don't even recognize yourself. Since she was fifteen, she'd been raising her siblings. Her parents had been murdered in the First war and she was the one the responsibility of raising a family landed on.


_March 16, 1975_

She felt tears tumble down her face as she ran. Tears of pain, tears of fear, tears of hate. She didn't know where she was running, she just knew she _had_ to get away. Her younger siblings were staying with a muggle family, to keep them safe. Phyris had insisted on staying... She wished she hadn't.

This pain, this shock, was unbearable, how could someone kill her parents? How could someone take the life of another? Was it for kicks or was there a reason. Her parents were pure-blood. Granted, they didn't actually believe what Voldemort was preaching, but they never came right out and said it. They pretended like they believed, that much was true. They played the neutral card when confronted. No one asked questions, except for her. She, herself, asked why.

The question had clearly upset her parents but they were professional at masking pain. Her heart felt like it was cracking in her chest. How could this happen to her?

Shaking her head, Pyris pushed herself to her feet. She wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts. She, being the oldest Rhayvin, was now the Lady of House Rhayvin. That title, in the law, made her an adult. She could choose to be the one who took care of her siblings, all five of them, even though it was frowned upon. Determination coursed through her.

She _would_ be the one who raised them. She wouldn't let her family be laughed at for if the Lady of the house _didn't_ take care of her family, no matter the age of the head in question, was seen as dishonour. Despite that this, her choice, was against the norm for young ladies her age (she should be worried about getting a husband, not raising a family), she was going through with it. She might get laughed at, _they_ might get laughed at; in that very moment, she couldn't have cared less.

She was afraid, no matter how much she wanted to hide it. She was afraid of what the future consisted of. The War was just getting to it's peak. Those innocent, ignorant, people who didn't know what was going on. _They _were fools. The Death Eaters where attacking behind the scenes. They were the ones doing the torture, the ones doing the killing.

Pushing her grief away, she paused for a second. Her mind still felt foggy but one question stuck in her mind. How was she to care for a newborn, barely two days old? She closed her eyes and fought off a wave of panic. She wouldn't be able to do anything, without a proper schooling. If she finished this year, which would only be a few more months, then she'd be set to be home schooled.

She didn't, actually, have to work. Her family was... Well, it was rich. She had more money than the Malfoys.

She took a deep breath and began to walk back to her house. Her stomach clenched as it started raining. Her robes cling to her body, unrelenting. Her black hair draped in front of her eyes, making it all the more difficult to see.

As she entered her home, she was blasted with a drying charm and soon she didn't feel as cold as she had before, though that numb feeling didn't leave.

Before she even knew what she was doing, she had a quill and parchment ready, preparing to send a formal letter announcing that she had decided to drop out of Hogwarts.

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore,_

_I regret to inform you of my choice to withdraw as a student at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, due to the death of both Mother and Father. I'll take my OWLs next year, as with my NEWTs in two, with the rest of my class._

_If you have any questions, about whom my siblings guardians are, don't bother. They shall be under my care for as long as they need me. Any problems that occur, notify me eminently. Nayna shall be returning late, I'll find a way to get here there. Don't worry._

_Sincerely, Lady Phyris Rhayvin_

She read over the letter, her hands shaking. Somehow, while writing, she'd had a steady grip on the quill. Her writing looked smooth and she let out a sigh before placing a charm on the roll to make sure it stays dry until Dumbledore receives it.

She'd find a way to make everything work. She'd get everything done. She'd be a great mom, and even greater sister. She just hoped this didn't blow up in her face.

As the monarch of her house, she was automatically seen as seventeen, in the eyes of the law. She could do magic outside of Hogwarts. Anyone could, really, being in a house where magic vibrated off the walls.

**a.n**

**I do not own Harry Potter. D: I just own this story. Also, there's going to be a few time skips in this story, though the next chapter will take place during the next few days as she scrambles to plan a funeral and gets her cousins back home. Unless Wizards have a specific ritual that they do... If they do, tell me!**


End file.
